


RAGTIME GAL

by SkipBack



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Occasional fluff, Ragtime Gal AU, al's essentially just ''please i wanna go back to hell'' the entire time, angel is an unofficial therapist i guess, angel who swears like a sailor, god i used to love all caps titles didn't i?, good thing that i've calmed down with that now, he's just not having a fun time, heaven's not actually as fluffy and nice as it seems, how fun, i'm looking at you neddy boi, it's like i'm SCREAMING at the reader to read my stories, just to be safe i'm gonna put the following tag, not that he wants to be, ocs are side characters, oh yeah alastor has panic attacks i guess???, okay i don't know but this is fine, redemption but not really, so i realized i barely had any tags when i started working on this, sorry about that btw, that're just there for no reason than to help push the story along, this is zeisty's version of heaven of course it's gonna be like this, updates aren't all that frequent anymore, well now it's 2021 and now it's about time that i do that, yayyyy zeisty got her grubby hands on the radio demon too, yayyyyyyyyy alastor's in heaven now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:28:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22652512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkipBack/pseuds/SkipBack
Summary: Heaven is supposed to be a place of paradise and peace, right?If that's true... why does it seem to be the worst punishment of all?
Comments: 34
Kudos: 61





	1. PART ONE

**Author's Note:**

> GASP what's this? A totally different AU by SkipBack, the lunatic behind the Hotel of Shadow AU? 
> 
> _What sorcery is this?_
> 
> This is just a thing I started writing in between HoS parts, and NOW y'all FINALLY get to see it! Enjoy it, or else I won't post the last chapter of Waiting Game. I'M KIDDING AHHHH-

_If you refuse me,_

_Honey, you'll lose me_

_Then you'll be left alone._

_Oh baby, telephone._

_And tell me I'm your own._

⸸ ⸸ ⸸ 

"Hey... look!" 

Charlie took one of Alastor's hands, holding it up for him to see. His glove had turned gold on dark blue. Alastor furrowed his eyebrows, but the realization came to him before she said, "You did it, Al! You redeemed yourself!" 

"Oh" was all Alastor said. His red pinstripe jacket was slowly becoming a white one with golden stripes. It was almost hypnotizing to watch. He didn't like the feeling of losing the ears atop his head, or losing his tail but he was in such a deep trance that he barely cared. From the look on her face, he could tell Charlie was watching all the red bleed out of his hair. Some of his hair fell out, and it revealed a pair of ears that weren't there before. If he was able to, he would have seen a pale golden brown color washing through his grayish skin. 

Alastor curiously fiddled with his ears, and experimentally poked at his teeth. 

It felt weird to be so... _normal_. 

He'd been in Hell so long that he was used to having deer-like features and sharp, golden teeth that could play music. But this... he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel. 

This would take some time getting used to. 

"I'm so proud of you, Al!" Laughing, Charlie threw her arms around him, snapping him out of his daze. Alastor chuckled, pulling an arm out of her hug to place a hand on her head. Charlie's bouncy, enthusiasm was still something he admired about her, even after all these years. A darling demon who often tried to look on the brighter side of things even when times were hard, with a love of musical theatre and tended to randomly burst into song. 

Another sinking realization suddenly came crashing over Alastor like a tidal wave. 

This was it. 

His last day in Hell. 

There would be no more crazy shenanigans at the Hazbin Hotel for him. 

He would never see Charlie again. 

"Al? Is everything alright?" 

Shaking off another daze, Alastor brought his attention back to the Princess of Hell. She was staring up at him with a concerned look on her face. "I... I'm fine, my dear. Why do you ask?" The filter over his voice was gone, along with the white noise; it felt like his head was clearer somehow. 

"I thought you were never fully dressed without a smile," she replied. She took the corners of his mouth and pulled them back up, causing him to realize he hadn't been smiling anymore. 

In all of his time in Hell, Alastor had kept his emotions bottled inside and had done an excellent job hiding them behind a smile. He'd never been broken since he'd died nearly a century ago. 

But this action was what finally broke him, something deep inside snapping in two pieces. 

For a second he tried holding it in... yet he couldn't seem to stop the great, heaving sobs that racked his entire body. He pulled the demon princess into a fierce hug, practically lifting her off her feet and sobbing into her shoulder. 

Charlie hesitated, but she began patting his back reassuringly. "It'll be okay, Al..." she said softly. 

The two beings turned their heads to see something in the air ripping before their eyes. Alastor knew it was an entrance to Heaven, even before he could see the silvery white grass and the grayish sky on the other side. He suddenly found that he was terrified of the entrance. Maybe it was because he knew that once on the other side, everything would change for him. "Charlie... I don't want to go," he said to her. 

"But you can't stay here, Al," she said, giving him a small wavering smile. "You're an angel now. You're not allowed to stay here." 

"I don't want to go," he repeated helplessly. "I don't want to leave you alone." She'd redeemed almost all of her friends, even her own girlfriend. 

In his own mind, he was all that was left. 

And he had to go. 

But he didn't want to. 

"Al... you have to," Charlie said. "Besides, it's not like I'll be completely alone. Angel's still here." 

He gave another sob, unable to stop the tears rushing down his face. "I can't," he choked out. His throat clenched, and it hurt to breathe. "I can't..." 

Charlie lifted a hand to his face, gently trying to wipe his tears with her thumb. "I'll be fine, Al. I promise." 

"I can't..." he tried one more time, weakly. "I can't... please, Charlie... don't make me..." 

"Alastor." She sounded stern. "It's time for you to go." 

Defeated and deflated, Alastor set her back down with a hiccuping sob. 

"There's one thing I want you to do for me while you're up there," Charlie said. She took out a red heart shaped locket on a thin black chain, placing it in Alastor's hands. It had an eye design on the front of it. "It's Vaggie's. I want you to find her and give it to her while you're up there, okay?" 

Alastor painfully swallowed. He couldn't speak anymore, so he just nodded. Tears welled up in Charlie's eyes and she gave a little wave. "Farewell, Alastor." 

He closed his hands around the locket, slowly making his way over to the entrance to Heaven. A thought came to him, whirling around just as he stepped through to the other side. 

"Charlie, I—" 

The entrance closed before he could say what he wanted to tell her. 

Alastor stood there in stunned silence. He stood there for what felt like hours in his own mind, a tiny part of him expecting it to open again so he could finish telling her what he was going to say. But it never did, and Alastor eventually came to realize she would never hear the end of that sentence. 

Alastor's shoulders fell, his eyes dropping to the red locket in his hands. He knew it wasn't his place to, but he opened it anyhow. 

There were two pictures inside: one of just Charlie, winking and poking her red cheeks, sticking her tongue out at the camera. The Magne family symbol littered the background of the photo. The other picture was of both Charlie and Vaggie. The demon princess had an arm around the other girl, planting a kiss on Vaggie's cheek. Vaggie herself looked like she was in the middle of laughing. This one was clearly taken in a "photobooth", whatever those were. 

The tears started back up as Alastor looked the pictures over. This little locket was the last connection he had to Hell and Charlie, yet it wasn't even for him. He closed it, tears spilling onto the silvery white grass covering the ground where he stood. 

⸸ ⸸ ⸸ 

Heaven was so different from Hell, in more ways than one. 

It was different shades of yellow, gray, blue and even pink, though it was never as dark as it was in Hell. It wasn't as crowded as Hell, or nearly as chaotic. There were no overlords, no turf wars, no hungry cannibals or murderous maniacs, no prescription drug abusers, no theives... 

Heaven was nothing like Hell. 

It was to be expected, but still. 

Alastor felt without a purpose and extraordinarily empty inside, sometimes wishing he could crawl into the void inside his heart and just stay there until the end of time. Yet he couldn't so he just wandered aimlessly... confused and unsure of what to do anymore, now that he was no longer the Radio Demon. 

He found himself making comparisons as he wandered. Demons would be run over in the streets of Pentagram City, but never in Starcloud City. He saw angels handing things to others in need without a fuss, whereas demons would have stolen what they needed to get by or would have refused to even look at those unfortunate enough to be living out on the streets. 

People up here were just so... nice. They'd see Alastor and wave to him, even if he never waved back. Some would even come walking right up to him and try to introduce themselves. Alastor could never bring himself to say anything back, so he'd just walk away, his head low and hunched over. 

He hadn't said a single word since he'd gotten to Heaven. 

He was beginning to earn himself a new reputation, though it wasn't quite as fearsome as his old one as the Radio Demon. These "denizens of paradise" had chosen to call him the Silent Angel. Had he been himself, Alastor probably would have laughed at the new alias. 

Over the past couple months, he'd been hearing angels talking about him. No one knew anything about him, but they'd been speculating what he was so sad about. Maybe he'd lost his voice when he died (which would explain why he couldn't speak). Maybe he was seperated from his lover, who was either still alive or went to Hell (which would explain the locket he often carried around). He'd heard countless theories about him, none close to the exact truth. 

No one guessed he used to be the Radio Demon, seemingly rendered mute by depression and his own loneliness, missing his old afterlife in Hell and keeping a locket that didn't even belong to him. 

Alastor couldn't bring himself to find Vaggie. In fact, he didn't want to. He knew if he did, he'd be giving up his last piece of Hell; he didn't think he could bear that pain. It seemed as though it had been years since he'd been redeemed, and he was still the mess he was since he'd come to Heaven. 

He hated this godforsaken place, but he couldn't leave it. He didn't think he'd get over it. Come to think of it... he would probably _never_ get over it. 

He still couldn't smile. How could he? 

⸸ ⸸ ⸸ 

A calm evening. 

The silver sky above the residents of Starcloud City was starting to turn violet. Lamplights began to turn on, their light flooding the streets. Some peaceful little shops closed their doors for the night, some angels getting ready turn in for the night or heading out to have a nice little night out on the city. 

But this was _not_ the usual night, as one in Heaven might expect. Quite the opposite. 

An angel had collapsed in the park, laying facedown. No one had brought much attention to it before, as everyone had thought he would get up on his own. 

Clearly now, it wasn't the case. 

He was still there, laying in the same position he had been a few hours prior. Curious denizens of paradise were beginning to gather around him, murmuring questions to each other yet not bothering to try to chat with him. They knew he was the Silent Angel; no one had ever heard him say anything before, so why would he now? 

"Um... hello?" an angel known as Ned eventually spoke up, taking a cautious step towards him. "Sir? Is everything alright?" 

No response from the Silent Angel, not even a flinch or a finger twitch. 

"Sir, we just want to help," Ned tried again. "We're not expecting you to say anything. We just want to know if everything is alright." 

Yet again, there was no response. 

It was to be expected. 

"Sorry to say, sir," Ned said as he crouched down beside him, "but you can't stay here forever. You are going to have to get up." 

The Silent Angel shifted, turning his head. His golden eyes reflected his pain, as empty and void of life as he had appeared seconds ago. 

He was a broken man, trapped inside of his own torment. 

Ned felt his heart pang as he stared into those sad eyes. That was a look he had never seen before... not quite like it, anyway. 

What was hurting him so badly to the point he seemed to be struggling to breathe? 

He stretched a hand out to the Silent Angel, who considered it before carefully slipping his own gloved hand into it. Ned helped him to his feet, struggling to stay up as the taller angel heavily leaned against him. The other angel avoided eye contact with anyone around him. 

Out of nowhere, an entrance opened just meters away, a redish hellscape beyond it. 

The Silent Angel instantly snapped to attention, suddenly full of more life than he had been seconds ago. He pushed Ned away, practically sprinting towards it as an even taller angel stepped out. 

The new angel yelped and jumped out of the way, the entrance closing just as the Silent Angel finally reached it. 

He tripped, toppling to the ground. He looked up at where the entrance had just been, a heartbroken wail filling the air. He smashed his head against the ground, his body shaking as he quietly sobbed. 

The new angel gave the Silent Angel a confused look before looking up at Ned. 

This was going to be fun to explain. 

⸸ ⸸ ⸸ 

"So... you one of those guys redeemed at the Hazbin Hotel?" 

Ned was driving back to Starcloud City Hall. The new angel, choosing to stick with his demon name until he felt comfortable to share his real one, was in the passenger seat beside him. The Silent Angel had the back to himself, and had chosen to fall asleep, his cheek smushed against the glass. 

"Yeah. Glad I finally got outta Hell. I think I'm goin' ta miss it down there, but I'm probably goin' ta get over it." Angel shifted in his seat. "So, what's the deal with Screams over there?" he asked, gesturing to the denizen of paradise in the back. 

"Eh, no one really knows," Ned replied. "That's the first time I ever heard him make a sound. We call him the Silent Angel, normally because he's so... well, silent. To be honest, I thought he was mute." 

"Hm..." Angel paused before continuing. "Where are we goin', anyway?" 

"We're headin' down to City Hall," Ned said. "For you, it'll be the usual 'This is where you'll live, these are all the rules of Heaven to follow to make sure you don't sin again' and all that jazz." 

"What about him?" 

"In all of my time in Heaven, I've never seen anyone run _toward_ an entrance to Hell," Ned told him. "I'm taking him to see if we can... 'help' him." 

"Ohh, what kinda help, huh?" Angel asked. 

"A screw is clearly loose in his head," Ned said. "We're planning on helping him tighten it."


	2. PART TWO

_I can't escape this Hell._

_So many times I've tried!_

_But I'm still caged inside._

⸸ ⸸ ⸸ 

Waiting. 

Waiting in the silence. 

Waiting just outside of an office. 

Waiting for what was to happen. 

Angel kept glancing at the sad angel beside him, huddled up and avoiding eye contact. He hadn't been here long, but Angel could already tell that this... this pain, this sorrow, this loneliness wasn't normal in a usual angel. 

But that was not all. 

There was something painstakingly familiar about this Silent Angel, but he couldn't put his finger on what. The shape of his head, his face, his eyes... there was just something so familiar, the answer close yet so far away... who was he? Who was this pained man, clearly about to face a terrible fate? 

What was it about this Silent Angel that struck him as familiar? 

Angel sighed, smoothing a hand through his hair. Maybe he was just overthinking things. Maybe he wasn't in the right mindset, the right state of mind. Surely this Silent Angel wasn't anyone important, or even anyone he should think about. 

Yet it was nagging at the back of his mind, and he was sure it would drive him crazy. 

A little red ladybug landed on the Silent Angel's head. He didn't acknowledge it, as though he was hoping that it would get bored of him if he left it alone. After a minute, he reached up and flicked it off his head in one swift movement. 

There it was again, this sense of familarity. That exact gesture, elegant and careful and purposeful... where had he seen it before? 

"Right, I got a question," Angel eventually said, breaking the silence. The Silent Angel turned his head. "Do I know you? You seem really familiar... where do I know you from?" 

The other man gave him an a look he couldn't read. He sighed, then smiled — or rather, tried to smile. He looked like he was trying to force himself to smile, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. It looked surprisingly painful, the corners of his mouth twisting with effort and strain. 

The smile was gone within five seconds. The Silent Angel put a hand over his mouth, the beginnings of tears forming in the corners of his eyes. 

Someone who literally couldn't smile. 

Alastor would have a laugh about that. 

Something clicked. 

That's when it struck him. 

That's when the realization came to him. 

That _was_ Alastor. 

_Okay, so mayyyyyyybe this Silent Angel guy's more important than I thought._

The realization must have been written all over his face, as the ex-Radio Demon shamefully turned his eyes to the ground, tears spilling down his face. 

Angel gently rested a hand on Alastor's shoulder, expecting him to shove him off. But he didn't do anything; he didn't even flinch or twitch. "Hey... what happened to you?" Angel asked softly. 

Alastor didn't respond; he just started to tremble, the tears waterfalls. It was jarring to see him like this; chipper and literally all smiles, it was a shock to see Alastor... _cry_. Or even frown, for fuck's sake! 

Wasn't Heaven supposed to be paradise? 

If it was... then why was Alastor acting like he was being punished? 

Within the span of a minute, Alastor was violently shaking, uncontrollably sobbing into Angel's shoulder, squeezing the daylights out of him in an iron-tight hug. 

"Help... me...." Alastor whispered, his voice rough from clear disuse. He hiccuped. "Please...." 

Angel's heart twanged; Alastor had never been one to vocalize any pain or discomfort he was in, or even ask for help. That meant that he was in a lot of pain, if he was actually vocalizing it. Angel cautiously put his hand on the other man's back, reassuringly patting it once it proved to be safe. 

"I will," Angel whispered back. "I promise." 

It took minutes before the ex-Radio Demon was able to settle down, his chin resting on Angel's shoulder, hiccuping every twenty seconds. "You are one helluva wreck," Angel noted. 

"I know..." Alastor said softly, his voice wavering. 

"Alright." A gold-haired angel in a black shirt stepped out, two bigger angels in matching gold armor behind him, their wings folded tightly behind their backs. "It's time for buddy boy to go." 

Right — Angel had forgotten about that. 

They were going to take Alastor who in Heaven knew where, and do who knew what to him. Angel suddenly wasn't fond of the idea; he'd just realized who it was. Plus, he was pretty sure "We're going to help Alastor tighten a loose screw in his head" meant "We're going to stick him in a facility for the mentally sick" or some shit like that. 

As soon as the words were spoken, Alastor's arms were back around him; if they were planning to pry the Silent Angel off of him, they would probably need a crowbar. Angel discovered Alastor still had his claws as he dug them into his back, hyperventilating and his golden eyes wild with desperation. 

It was clear: Alastor didn't want to go anywhere. 

"Where are you goin' ta take him?" Angel asked as Alastor began to shake again. 

"I don't really think it concerns you," Ned said. Despite his high and mighty tone of voice, Ned seemed to be annoyed. After all, he probably thought that Angel had suddenly picked up an interest in the sad, wingless denizen of paradise. 

"Oh, but I think it does," Angel said, his voice low. 

That clearly hit a nerve. 

Ned tensed, the pale gold feathers along his neck rising, his eyes burning. "It does _not,_ " he snapped. "This is classified information to the higher ranks. You are not in the higher ranks. THEREFORE, I am NOT required to tell YOU _anything_." 

Alastor clung so tightly to Angel that his claws were starting to rip through the fabric of his jacket, sinking into his skin. 

"Then how exactly are you goin' ta help him?" Angel asked, internally wincing. "And no 'classifed to the high horses' bullshit. I want ta know." 

"I can't tell you," Ned said. "All I can tell you is that we're... 'fixing' him, and that's it." 

He gestured to one of the winged angels, who nodded and lumbered over to them, easily prying the panicky ex-Radio Demon off as though peeling a banana. 

Alastor went limp, his pupils pinpricks and his limbs dangling uselessly by his sides. 

This odd silence lasted a moment. 

Alastor drew a deep breath of air. 

And everyone in the building seemed to plug their ears as he began to shriek like a banshee, as though his legs were about to be sawed off. 

He flailed, screaming and crying and kicking, his eyes wild with terror. " _Would you kindly_ CALM DOWN?!" the winged angel asked, but Alastor's high pitched scream only increased in volume. 

The angel eventually released him when his screaming was almost loud enough to shatter glass. Alastor toppled to the ground, scrambling to get to Angel, who was now standing at this point. The ex-Radio Demon latched onto him, his eyes darting between the other three denizens of paradise, shaking like a leaf. 

They were probably going to start calling Alastor " _The Screaming Angel_ " after this. 

"Alright," Angel said, his ears still ringing. "How about, instead of what you were goin' ta do, he lives wit' me? How does that sound?" 

"We canno—" Ned started, but stopped when Alastor threateningly took another deep, painful breath. "Fine," he said with a growl. "I might lose my job because of this, but fine! Do whatever the fuck you want, I don't care." 

⸸ ⸸ ⸸ 

The first thing Alastor did was collapse facedown on the couch. 

While he laid there, Angel decided to check the place out. It was a relatively nice place, not nearly as bad... well, anywhere in Hell. The color scheme seemed to be white, gold and pale pink. The place clearly needed some decorations, but it was a nice little house nevertheless. 

Well, Angel felt like he would think a Dumpster in Heaven was nice compared to the crap in Hell. 

He was finally, officially free from Valentino... and he no longer had to worry about seeing him again. 

That also meant never seeing Charlie or any of his other friends who chose to stay in Hell instead of coming to literal paradise. 

Of course, from what he'd seen so far, his faith in Heaven was a little... well, shaky at best. He wasn't sure if it was really all it was cracked up to be. 

Hell was full of punishments, but you were free to do whatever you wanted... Heaven was full of rules to follow if you wanted to stay, and seemed to be more secretive than Alastor was. 

Speaking of Alastor... 

After an hour of looking through the new house, Alastor was still curled up on the couch, though he was now resting his chin on the back of it and staring out the window at the night sky. 

"So, how're ya feelin'?" Angel asked as he moved to sit beside him. 

Alastor made to speak, but it came out as a hoarse noise, his throat clearly raw from screaming. He gave Angel a look that fairly clearly said _How do you think I'm feeling right now?_

"Not good, I take it," Angel said. He didn't look so good, either; Angel was just noticing the impossibly dark lines under his eyes. He looked like he was having a difficult time keeping his eyes open. 

"Hey, do y'wanna know somethin'?" Angel asked. He didn't wait for a response; he knew Alastor couldn't respond at the moment. "There's... two? Yeah, two bedrooms here. So that means neither of us hafta sleep on the couch." He gently rested a hand on Alastor's shoulder. "What do ya say? You want ta try n' get some rest?" 

Alastor glanced at his hand, not responding at first. After a minute, he nodded. 

Angel stood up first, holding his hand out. Alastor hesitated, but he slipped his hand into Angel's and allowed him to help him up. He was unsteady on his feet; he had to lean on Angel to walk. 

One of the rooms was a master bedroom, and the other was more like a guest room. Angel thought that Alastor would have picked the master... if it were closer. 

Alastor pretty much draped his long body across the bed, not bothering to take his glasses off. Angel was about to bring attention to it, but the other man was already out like a light. 

Angel just rolled his eyes and took them off for him, setting them down on the little table beside the bed. 

⸸ ⸸ ⸸ 

"I would never lie to you, Sir." 

" _So you thought it was okay?_ " 

"I do not, Sir. I just had no choice at the time." 

" _Do you know how unstable he is?_ " 

"I do not, Sir. But a damaged angel, free in Starcloud City... who knows what he could do? I just need the order to carry out Code Silver, and then I—" 

" _No._ " 

"Bu—" 

" _Until we know just how damaged he is, you will NOT be carrying out Code Silver. We have never had to carry out Code Silver in centuries! Sure, there is a possiblity you could carry out Code Bronze, and I would hate the day Code_ Gold _is carried out, but as we do not know, we cannot._ You _can't._ " 

"Sir, he wanted to go to _Hell_. A literal hellscape, the complete opposite of paradise!" 

" _As you have said. And while that is most troubling, it doesn't tell anyone how unstable he is. If he goes berserk and try to commit a mass murder, then you can carry out Code Silver._ " 

"I... yes, Sir. I understand" 

" _Good. Then you are dismissed until further notice._ " 

⸸ ⸸ ⸸ 

What would happen tonight would be one of the weirdest things to ever happen to him. 

It was surprising to be pulled out of sleep by movement, even more surprising when he felt someone lift up his arm and rest it over their thin body. 

He peeked open an eye, and was suddenly sure he was dreaming. He was sure this wasn't real. It wasn't possible, couldn't be true. But he had to be sure. 

"Al?" Angel asked softly, cautiously. As he had found a few nights ago, his claws weren't the only demonic features Alastor had managed to hold onto. His eyes were still remarkably easy to see in the dark... which also meant it was easy to see the pain and fear and shame in them, as well. 

If Alastor was here, in bed with him like a frightened child after having a nightmare, then something must have rattled him pretty badly. 

Hell if Angel knew what it was, or if he could even get Alastor to tell him. 

Not that he could, at the moment. Alastor had already slipped into unconsciousness in a minute of stunned silence. He looked surprisingly peaceful... content. 

Angel sighed, closing his eyes. 

He'd have to work out how he felt about this tomorrow.


	3. PART THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: PANIC ATTACK.

_You think you have the best of intentions._

_I cannot shake the taste of blood in my mouth!_

⸸ ⸸ ⸸ 

When the next day eventually rolled around, Alastor was still tucked up under his arm. 

The other's face was smushed against the pillow, his expression scrunched up in an adorably angry way. _Dammit Al, it's too early for this shit,_ Angel thought at him. Alastor cluelessly stretched out, yawning and burying his face into the pillow with a sleepy grumble. 

Angel sat up and got out of bed before his heart could explode — he was adamant that _Alastor_ and _cute_ weren't words that should ever be combined. 

Alastor — the godforsaken, motherfuckin' ex-Radio Demon — had crawled into bed with him last night. Now the question was: Why? Why had Alastor chosen to climb into bed with him? This seemed highly out of character to Angel, but from Alastor's screams of pure insanity at City Hall and the fact he had been crying... not to mention Alastor's inability to smile anymore... Angel didn't know what the Hell was wrong with Alastor, but he would be getting to the bottom of it. 

But obviously, not right now. 

He had to put a shirt on first. 

⸸ ⸸ ⸸ 

_WHAM!_

Alastor's head fell against the table, and he gave a small groan. 

"Sleep well there, Al?" Angel asked, sliding a mug of coffee across the table to him. The other man pulled the mug closer to himself and hunched over it, a look that all too clearly said _I hate the universe and everything in it_ on his face. He lifted the mug to his lips, starting to drink the bitter beverage within. 

"Anyway, I've been meanin' ta ask," Angel went on. Alastor paused in the middle of taking a sip, and Angel knew that if he were still a demon, his ears would have been perked (literally). "What was that all about? With the screamin' and the cryin', someone would'a thought you were about ta be killed." 

"Not right now." Alastor's voice was gruff from sleep, and he looked positively peeved to be awake without his signature smile (Angel didn't think he would ever get over that). He gave a jaw-cracking yawn, tiredly blinking. "It's too early for this." 

Actually, it was almost three in the afternoon now, but Angel wasn't about to tell him that. 

"Alright, but what about climbin' in ta bed with me?" Angel asked. 

Alastor groaned. "I was hoping you weren't going to bring that up," he said, rubbing his forehead. 

"What made you think I wasn't goin' to? This is somethin' I've never seen you do, much less with _me_ ," Angel said. "When was the last time you did that? With me, never. Then last night happened, and now it's happened." His voice softened. "What's buggin' you, Al? I gotta know." 

"I..." It came out as a squeak, and the ex-Radio Demon cleared his throat. "To be frank, I don't rightly know. I just..." He shook his head. "I can't think straight right now, Angel." 

There was a pause in the conversation. 

"Well..." Angel started. "Well... well, you will tell me at some point, right?" 

Alastor grunted, but Angel wasn't sure what it meant. 

⸸ ⸸ ⸸ 

Angel found himself waiting again. 

This time, it was for Alastor's response. 

Angel still didn't know what was wrong, and it was hard to help Alastor if he didn't exactly know what was ailing him. It didn't exactly help that Alastor went quiet any time Angel tried to bring it up. Other than that, they were actually getting along better than Angel would have expected (based on their previous interactions in Hell, of course). 

But of course, in the meantime, Angel did his best to rehablitate Alastor (ha!). 

It was surprising, really, how much of Alastor Angel actually missed (though he didn't miss the strange, creepy things that usually seemed to happen around the guy). Even though he _knew_ it were Alastor, and he _knew_ Alastor's voice at this point (despite the fact he somehow sounded so... _different_ without the filter over it), it didn't rightly _feel_ like him. Sure, maybe it was because Angel didn't feel cold standing near Alastor anymore, even though he really hadn't noticed that feeling until it wasn't there, or he didn't exactly _look_ or _act_ like the Alastor he was used to... but even then, Angel found he still wanted to help him as much as he could, even if the "Silent" Angel didn't want to tell him what was wrong and why he'd crawled up beside him last night (which meant that being redeemed at the hotel had affected him more than he thought... well, at least Charlie would have been proud to hear that she had more of an impact than _she_ would have thought). 

Honestly, all Angel wanted was just a little sign that the good ol' Alastor he knew and _mostly_ cared for was still in there, tucked away where neither of them could find him. The first thing he could do for Alastor was probably to stop asking him what was wrong, based off of his reaction to the question; he was just going to wait for him to tell him on his own time. 

It took a while before he could get the hang of it; the first thing on his tongue was usually that question. But it was easy, really, once he eventually figured out how to stop thinking about it all the time (not to say he didn't sometimes involuntarily think about it... well, he told himself it was involuntary). 

Nevertheless, it seemed easier on Alastor that that question wasn't the main topic of discussion around the house; he seemed just a little more lighter, somehow, not to hear variants of _What's wrong with you?_ Alastor still couldn't smile... well, not grandly, like the way he used to. It was probably better not to bring that up to Alastor, either, seeing as not being able to smile seemed to hurt him in ways that Angel didn't have the words to describe, in English _or_ Italian. 

Over the past few weeks since their first meeting anymore in a long time, Angel found different ways to try to bring Alastor back out of his shell. He found out that they actually sold little antique radios up here; Alastor's eyes lit up as soon as he saw the little gold one Angel brought home one day, and it immediately became his favorite object in the house. Alastor had had an odd love of giving the radios he owned funky little names, and the gold radio soon became Connection Radio. Angel wasn't sure why Alastor had taken a shine to calling it _Connection_ Radio, though Angel had a weird feeling it got its name because Alastor felt like it connected him to Hell in a way. 

Which made sense, since radios had been a huge part of Alastor down there. 

Angel would occasionally hear faint jazz coming from Al's room at night. He didn't mind it as much, but at least sleeping with Connection on seemed to have the same effect it did when he curled up by Angel's side, and though he still acted like he hadn't slept in months every time he woke up (the disadvantages of being a coffee drinker, Angel supposed), he seemed to be a lot more... _happier_ than he had been in a while. While that was good, Alastor was still quiet and distant at times, even then. Angel thought that while Connection made him feel closer to Hell, it reminded Alastor that he was in Heaven now and unless he snapped out of his stupor and went berserk, he wasn't ever going back down to Hell (Angel knew he wasn't going back; while he missed the friends of his who chose to stay down there, there were still people he'd wanted to get away from without worrying that people were going to be sent after him, which was why he'd risked this whole damn redemption business in the first place). 

Angel found that he wouldn't be too surprised if he did something to get back to Hell; it was Alastor, after all. He liked taking big risks when the opportunity arose, and he was sure that part of Alastor would never die; even if he was battered and broken, Angel was certain that it was buried somewhere deep within him. It was kind of terrifying to think about; if Angel somehow managed to bring him out of his shell, finally and completely... what would that mean? Would Alastor decide the only way to get back to Hell was doing something so crazy it just might work? 

Angel didn't want to think about it; Heaven did carry out the cleanses in Hell, and they were able to sigificantly decrease the amount of demons down there in just one day. Alastor was one person, so if he did do something like that... well, it was better not to think about it. 

After Connection's somewhat success, finding other ways to carefully and slowly drag Alastor out of the darkness was mostly a breeze. 

There was one noteworthy success that happened right in their kitchen, although it was actually an accident; one second the two were quietly making dinner together, and the next minute Angel somehow caused the duo to fly into some sort of song and dance. He wasn't sure how it happened, but in that moment, it seemed as though Alastor's good old self was truly back; a huge grin splitting his face from ear to ear, a song on his tongue. Admittedly, both of them were just a little out of tune; Alastor's voice was a little croaky from not using it, and Angel couldn't exactly remember how the tune went so he was sure parts of the melody were _waaaaayyyyyyyyyy_ off. 

Yet neither of them really minded... or cared, for that matter. 

It just seemed to lighten both of their spirits a little more. 

⸸ ⸸ ⸸ 

Alastor hissed as blinding white hit his eyes, throwing an arm over his face. 

He still wasn't used to the lighting up here; walking outside in Heaven always had the same effect of walking outside with the sun shining when the snow was on the ground. It just burned his eyes every time, though he'd been up here for longer than Angel, and he should have been used to it by now (he found himself idly wondering why it hadn't bothered him before; maybe it was a sign just how deep into his depression he was before, if he hadn't responded to it until now). Even though they did keep the curtains open, their house always seemed to be in the perfect position to always have shade. 

Alastor squeezed one eye open, squinting until his eyes eventually adjusted to Heaven's light. "Is it me, or does it just seem more... _brighter_ today?" Alastor asked. 

"I hadn't noticed," Angel replied unhelpfully. "Now, c'mon! It's goin' ta be fine, I promise. She already knows we're comin', so don't worry 'bout it." 

Alastor narrowed his eyes at the other man. "I do wish you'd tell me who this _she_..." he said, but Angel had already turned and started to walk off. "...is." Alastor sighed, and hurried off after Angel. 

Now, Alastor was a man who loved the spotlight; it had always seemed so interesting to him, to be nothing and suddenly have what feels like everything. Your voice known, your thoughts heard by countless, people choosing to listen to you instead of trying to talk to someone who just won't hear it... it was a very different life than the one he had lived prior to this new life. Of course, his family hadn't been all too in favor with Alastor picking up his very own radio show when they were supposed to be secretive... but then, how would anyone connect this lively young radio man to what they did? Surely, there was nothing to be worried about... 

In Hell, he picked up quite the reputation fast; it had taken him a few days before the shock wore off, and he essentially let out the pain and frustration he had when he was alive into some form of a rampage through Pentagram (that's what others called it; he just called it one helluva tantrum... an embarrassing one, at that). Of course, it had caused him to earn the title of the Radio Demon. He'd been humored by the alias, since he'd always called himself a radio man... but he took to the title, and didn't really mind it that much. 

But now in Heaven this fine day, that seemed to all change. 

The attention was like someone reaching out and giving his heart an uncomfortable squeeze; he couldn't tell what anyone was feeling about him, couldn't read it on their faces (his power of sensing soul energy was gone; he'd been able to sense souls and how someone was feeling subconsciously, and it had been a part of him for over eight decades... it was terrifying to suddenly not to have it anymore). He suddenly felt more vulnerable than he ever had been in both of his lives, like a mouse trapped under a cat's claws. His spine prickled and his chest squeezed, anxiety pouring through his entire being. 

They knew about what happened, didn't they? At the park? At City Hall? 

They knew he'd tried to go for the hell-portal. They knew he wasn't like them. 

They knew he was the black sheep. 

He didn't have a place in Heaven, never had. Never would. 

_He_

_didn't_

_belong_

_here._

His chest tightened and squeezed, his breathing hitching. 

_Did_

_he_

_have_

_a_

_place_

_anywhwere?_

The world darkened around him. It felt like everything was caving in around him, crushing him. 

_Killing him._

His mind twisted and swirled around him, whispering and screaming at him all at once. He didn't understand it, couldn't quite grasp it. He tried to breathe; his chest felt too constricted, his throat painfully tight, he couldn't pull any air into his lungs. He wrapped his arms around himself, desperately gasping for air. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

_He_

_was_

_out_

_of_

_place._

Hands were put on his shoulders, and he could faintly hear someone calling his name through his heartbeat, feel someone gently shaking him. He steadily tried to get his breathing under control; before long, he heard what felt like a the wind swooshing past his ears and he could hear— 

"Al!" 

Alastor opened an eye, peering up at Angel, tears he hadn't realized were there streaming down his cheeks. "Al, are you alright?" Angel asked. "We don't have ta do this if you don't want; we can go home, and—" 

It was interesting to see how much Angel would put on the line for him, but Alastor shook his head. "It's fine," he said, the cage around his chest loosening. 

"Are you sure?" Angel asked. "It's not too late ta turn back. We can do this another time. She might understand." 

"Yes, it is," Alastor said. "I'm too curious to turn back now, Angel." 

Angel gave him an uncertain, concerned look. "Positive?" 

"I'm positive." 

"...alright." Angel seemed reluctant, but the two continued on their way. Angel seemed to stay closer to Alastor, though he tried to make it seem like he wasn't hovering around him. Even then, Alastor appreciated the gesture; the other man had become an anchor to him, even if he'd never tell Angel that. 

He tried to store that... whatever it had been to the back of his mind. A panic attack? He wasn't sure he'd ever had one before; it was certainly new to him. To be honest, this whole experience was new. It truly had an interesting contrast to his life in Hell, that's for sure. 

Alastor stayed quiet behind Angel, though the other man occasionally tried to idly chat with him, trying to keep him out of his haze. Alastor chose to focus on him and nothing else; he couldn't dwell on it, surely. 

After a while, Angel told Alastor to stay put when they finally reached their destination. It was a small little pale gold house with stairs leading up to the door, and Alastor stayed at the bottom of the steps while Angel trotted up the stairs and knocked on the door. "Ey! It's us!" he called. 

There was no verbal response; there was a few minutes where nothing happened before the door steadily opened and a familar woman poked her head out. Though her hair was now black with a few gold stripes, and her skin was a lighter shade of gray, she was familiar, painfully, painstakingly familiar. Her hooked nose and the way she crossed her arms and pursed her lips, glaring at Angel with her remaining eye, though it was more for old time's sake than anything. 

He knew her. Oh, by the Pentagram in Hell's sky, did he know her. He'd never wanted to purposely find her, for fear what would happen to the little locket hidden under Alastor's jacket, and Angel had brought him straight to her. 

On purpose. 

WITHOUT TELLING HIM. 

But the world went on around them unfazed, yet he felt like the world was hanging in the balance. 

"Well, you're certainly earlier than I expected," the woman stated. She turned her attention to him, and he almost stopped breathing. "Honestly, I didn't think this pompous cheesy talkshow shitlord even had a soul in him to redeemed!" 

Out of the blue, the world came crashing down like a huge tidal wave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS would be considered the perfect chapter for me _ever_. It's the perfect blend of fluff, angst and suspense; all in my forte, and all I seem to be terribly good at. Unforunately for Alastor, at times.


End file.
